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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28606758">better (now that you're here)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadWolfGirl3/pseuds/BadWolfGirl3'>BadWolfGirl3</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gotham (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff without Plot, Forehead Kisses, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, I am very tired and I have school in the morning, Kissing, M/M, Nygmobblepot, Sickfic, but who cares, i don't even know where this came from, it is very late, literally ed is sick and Oswald takes care of him, loving oswald, possibly post series but really it's up to you, sick ed, that's the fic, this is so indulgent guys</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:28:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,472</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28606758</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadWolfGirl3/pseuds/BadWolfGirl3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ed feels a little bit like he’s been hit with a truck.</p><p>His head is pounding like a drum, his throat feels like it’s stuffed with cotton and hurts almost as much as his head. His thoughts feel scattered and disconnected like jumbled up puzzle pieces that don’t seem to want to fit together. He’s too hot, but he keeps shivering like he isn’t boiling alive under the mountain of blankets Oswald insists on keeping on their bed. His eyes fill with tears but he’s almost too tired to cry. </p><p>Until there are suddenly gentle hands smoothing his hair and running up and down his bare back soothingly, and a soft voice is whispering something he can’t make out in his ear but it sounds like the most beautiful thing he's ever heard.</p><p>Oswald always makes everything better.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>64</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>better (now that you're here)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I loooooovveee sick fics. They’re my all time favourite kind of fic, besides maybe the ones with near death experiences. What can I say? I like angst.</p><p>And I haven’t written a sick fic in AGES- I’m pretty sure the last one I wrote was five years ago. And I was rewatching Anything for You (best episode besides 5x11 and The Sinking Ship the Grand Applause) because I was feeling really anxious about all the absolute shit that’s going on and I saw how Ozzie took care of Ed after Butch almost kills him and I was like: I gotta write me some of that. And thus this was born. It’s basically just fluff, no plot or anything besides Ed being sick. I can’t speak for everyone, but I know I personally need some comfort right now. </p><p>I WILL note, however, that there is some throwing up, and I know that can make some people uncomfortable. It’s right at the beginning and I think I lead up to it enough, so you can skip that bit if you like or just bypass this fic, it’s all good. </p><p>I tend to write my established relationship stuff post series, just because it’s easier, so that’s kind of when I imagine this is set. But I’m pretty vague so if you think it’s set sometime else, go for it.  </p><p>Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ed feels a little bit like he’s been hit with a truck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The minute he opens his eyes he wants to shut them again, the light filtering through the open curtains blinding him and making him dizzy and disoriented. His head is pounding like a drum, his throat feels like it’s stuffed with cotton and hurts almost as much as his head. His thoughts feel scattered and disconnected like jumbled up puzzle pieces that don’t seem to want to fit together. He’s too hot, but he keeps shivering like he isn’t boiling alive under the mountain of blankets Oswald insists on keeping on their bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Oswald. Ed was going to help him with- with that thing he had to do. What was it? He tries to remember but the memory slips through his fingers. He should go find Oswald. He always makes things better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ed tries to sit up, but his limbs are heavy and stiff and the second he manages to lift his torso off the bed all the blood in his body rushes to his head and his vision goes black. Right. Getting up isn’t an option. Fine, he can just stay here. It’s fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except it isn’t fine, because suddenly his stomach is lurching and his throat is clenching up and- and-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ed somehow manages to stumble out of bed and drag himself into the ensuite before he empties the leftovers of last night’s dinner into the toilet. When that’s all gone he’s just left with dry heaving, his stomach still trying to purge itself of something that isn’t there, and he thinks it might be the most miserable he’s ever felt (this is an exaggeration, but he can’t bring himself to give a shit). His eyes fill with tears but he’s almost too tired to cry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until there are suddenly gentle hands smoothing his hair and running up and down his bare back soothingly, and a soft voice is whispering something he can’t make out in his ear but it sounds nice and oh god everything is suddenly that much better. If it were anyone else, he’d jerk away and reach for the knife they keep stashed under the bathroom sink, horrific illness be damned, but he doesn’t need to. He’d know the man touching him even in death. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ed’s retching ends with a bout of coughing and shuddering and then he’s falling back into Oswald, who gathers him up in his arms and holds him tightly. They stay there on the floor awhile, Oswald rocking Ed back and forth slowly as he shivers from the too cold air and the sweat cooling on his skin. He may have somehow been transported to Antarctica, but at least Oswald’s here. That’s all he needs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re burning up,” Oswald says softly as he presses a kiss to Ed’s forehead. Ed thinks he might cry again, throat closing up and eyes burning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should go,” Ed manages to get out through the jumble of thoughts trying to push their way out of his mouth. His voice is hoarse and gravely, like he’s been screaming for hours. “Don’t want you to get sick too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wouldn’t wish this on anyone (except maybe Jim Gordon)- he’s looked death in the eyes more times than he likes to think about, but somehow this is worse (is he being over dramatic? possibly). No, he wouldn’t wish this on his worst enemy (except Jim Gordon), but especially not Oswald. Oswald, who is now rolling his eyes and kissing Ed’s forehead again like he hadn’t heard a word he had just said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had Ed even spoken? It’s getting too hard to determine what’s real and what isn’t (which is never a good sign with him).  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be ridiculous. Who’d take care of you if I left?” He sighs and brushes Ed’s hair back from his eyes. Ed doesn’t know how he’s done it, but he suddenly feels ten times better just because Oswald is touching him. He thinks he says this out loud, because Oswald smiles and tightens his arms around him, something like a laugh huffing out his nose. “Let’s get you back to bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oswald carefully adjusts his grip on Ed and picks him up off the floor, supporting all 6 feet of him against his smaller frame and somehow not falling down (is the room spinning for Oswald like it is for Ed?).  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t really remember the trip back to their bedroom, just the heat of Oswald against his bare, sweaty skin. Oh god, he must look disgusting right now. He certainly feels it. Being sick is the worst. Oswald ushers him back into the bed and wraps him up in the thousands of blankets on their bed, and at least Ed isn’t an ice block anymore. He may be lava now, but it’s preferable to anything else. His nose is almost too plugged up for him to tell, but he thinks the sheets smell like Oswald and that helps too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really should go,” Ed says again, though he has to force himself to say it. “You have things you need to do today and I don’t-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh…” Oswald cuts him off, kissing him softly. Ed wants to protest, facts and statistics about germs and sickness swarming in his head like bees, but he can’t when it feels this good. “I’ll reschedule. I want to stay here with you.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s that overwhelming need to cry again. Ed closes his eyes and takes deep, steady breaths instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re silent for a minute, comfortable in each other’s presence. Oswald idly strokes Ed’s hair. “I’ll go get you some tea and some pain killers,” he says at last, giving Ed another peck on the forehead before turning to leave the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait!” Ed blurts out, his hand snaking from underneath the covers and grabbing Oswald’s arm, keeping him from going any further. Oswald looks back at him, eyes filled with worry, and Ed swallows thickly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stay with me?” he asks, voice quiet. He doesn’t know why he sounds so unsure- they’re supposed to be long past old insecurities and communication issues by now. Old habits die hard, he guesses. All he knows is that if Oswald leaves him even for a second he might die. He needs him with him always.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oswald just softens, sweet and slow and almost shocked, the expression spreading across his face like warm caramel. He’s the most beautiful thing Ed’s ever seen (he’d pretend that this is all the sickness talking, but this is a lie- it is always like this. Ed wouldn’t change it for the world).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Why does this all feel so new, when they’ve been like this for years now? Why does kissing him feel like a jolt of lightning, like a push off a high cliff with the assurance he’ll be caught? He always wants it to be like this.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Oswald murmurs, stroking Ed’s hair softly. It feels like heaven.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He strips down to his undershirt and boxers and slides under the covers, immediately wrapping Ed up in his arms. Ed may feel like he’s melting under all the blankets and Oswald’s body heat and the fever burning it’s way through him, but he can’t bring himself to care. All that matters is this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” Ed says quietly into the space between Oswald’s neck and shoulder, tightening his arms around him. Oswald lets out a shaky breath of air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too,” he whispers, pressing a kiss into Ed’s hair. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding hurts his head, so Ed just hums and snuggles deeper into Oswald’s embrace. His throat still hurts and his head feels like someone took a pipe to it (he would know) and his stomach still feels a little sensitive, but somehow none of that matters. What does matter is that he’s here, safe, in Oswald’s arms. That’s all he needs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he wakes up hours later, he will still feel like death but not as much. He’ll roll over and kiss Oswald even though he knows he shouldn’t and it will help. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you feeling?” Oswald will ask. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ed will take Oswald’s hand and hold it tightly. “Better,” he’ll reply with a hoarse throat that stinks like needles, “better because I’m with you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Oswald will look at him like he just hung the moon, and he will finally take those painkillers and drink that tea and they will spend a quiet evening together as Oswald nurses him back to health. And he will wonder what he ever did to deserve this beautiful man with the blue blue eyes and fire in his veins. And then he will realize it doesn’t matter how or why… just that it is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that is later. For now, Ed just sleeps. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And there you go, y’all. I hope the fluff was healing, it definitely helped me out a bit. I’ll probably sleep through all my alarms again because it’s super late but it was worth it (I woke up five minutes before class this morning because I was binging Bridgerton at 3 am- it’s so freaking good guys)</p><p>I typically sign off my fics with a small ‘stay safe’, at least since the pandemic started, but I wanted to say this. I urge you all to please be careful and seriously stay safe. There is so much shit going on that I don’t really want to get into here but if anybody needs to vent or anything know that I’m here to listen. I spent most of my day being angry, wanting to throw up, and wanting to cry (and throwing curse words at my tv), and if anyone else is feeling that way, please don't be a stranger. For a writer I find myself pretty bad at words, so just know I’m here and I’m angry and I’m ready for some fucking change. </p><p>I love you guys. Thanks for reading.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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